


Things Present

by TheLibranIniquity



Series: The Anatomy Of Grief [5]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:06:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3237410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLibranIniquity/pseuds/TheLibranIniquity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Improvisation (noun): The art of making do with whatever is available at the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The ridiculously late fifth installment in a series that is only finished now because of the Denial fic finishing challenge.

Past and to come seems best; things present, worst.  
\- Shakespeare, Henry IV, Part 2

1

_Three weeks after Nick's funeral Stephen's promotion to team leader was made official._

_Nobody celebrated._

_Stephen had moved into Nick's lab, overlooking the atrium through soundproofed – even mammoth and future predator-proofed – glass._

_Nobody bothered him. Outside of an anomaly shout, nobody really spoke to him. Stephen couldn't bring himself to be bothered; he'd considered quitting more than once, but hadn't seen the point in following through on that idea._

_He knew too much but he couldn't do anything worthwhile about it. He'd fucked up spectacularly; nobody considered him capable of any better, in the ARC or outside it._

_From his sanctuary, Stephen could observe without being scrutinised in return. Soldiers he didn't recognise carted away the last of Leek's possessions in sealed containers while Claudia reclaimed her half of the office. Connor's anomaly detection machine grew almost daily._

_Twenty-three days after Nick's funeral, it took everything Stephen possessed not to jump out of his skin when the door to Nick's – his – lab opened behind him._

_“You need to sign off on these,” Claudia announced, dropping a pile of folders centimetres from Stephen's nose. “In the next hour would be preferable, but I'll take by the end of business today. You missed a briefing with the minister – I took notes – and there's a new Special Forces captain arriving tomorrow.”_

_Stephen blinked, but before he could say anything, Claudia continued._

_“He's a permanent replacement for Ryan, so Lester's orders are to break him in gently. Also there are meetings with department heads you need to start putting in an appearance at.” She stood at the corner of Stephen's line of sight, hands on hips but with a surprisingly soft expression on her face._

_No, not so surprising._

_“Look,” she said, her tone softening to match her face. “Nick's gone. He's not coming back – not any version of him. He's gone... and you need to be here.”_

_“I am,” Stephen said._

_Claudia raised her eyebrows and sighed. “You need to be here,” she repeated, emphasising the last two words. “Either be here, or don't. There's no in between. There can't be. I want those signed.” She pointed at the folders as she turned and walked away._

_Stephen watched the door close behind her._

_He reached for the topmost folder._

_Then the anomaly alert went off._

o o o o o

“Claudia.”

The knife at Stephen's throat presses in a little tighter. He hears someone move behind him – Emily, judging by the sound of boots on tarmac. He hopes she has the good sense to not come any closer.

Stephen searches Claudia's face as she stares back impassively. The hand holding the knife is steady but her other arm, held tightly against her body, twitches slightly. Her breathing is ragged but everything else about her is controlled.

“Claudia,” Stephen says again. He feels the knife's edge against his neck and swallows involuntarily. “It's me, Stephen. I-”

His chest spasms. Just for a second, but it's enough. Stephen reaches for his side and bows his head. Before the blade can cut his skin Claudia pulls it away.

“You're injured,” she says.

Stephen is almost too busy regaining control of his breathing (something he's been doing more and more lately) to realise she said anything at all. He leaves one hand cupping the bandaged area and looks back up at her.

“What?”

Claudia points at Stephen's side. “You're injured,” she repeats. Her voice is faint, raspy, like she hasn't used it in a long time. Like Stephen had sounded when he'd first got back to the ARC. Barely a week ago, he thinks dimly. Is that all it's been? And if Claudia's that raspy, and this hyper alert of her surroundings, just what has happened to her?

Behind him Stephen can hear movement and the low crackle of radio static, and a car alarm underneath a steady hum of traffic noises. He keeps his focus on Claudia, and answers her: “You are, too.”

Claudia pulls her injured arm in a little tighter. “You're injured,” she says again. This time there's emotion in her voice, but nothing that Stephen can identify. She looks up, over Stephen's shoulder but says nothing more.

“Yes,” Stephen says this time, wondering what she wants of him. It's easier than wondering how she got here, or how she was injured or what any of this means.

Claudia exhales loudly and leans back against the wall, tilting her head up to the sky. Her eyes close but her breathing remains ragged. She's still awake.

Stephen glances over his shoulder to see Emily and Sergeant Obaid watching them. Emily's face is inscrutable while Obaid looks wary.

“Secure the anomaly,” Stephen tells Obaid quietly. “Do it from behind me, if you can.”

Obaid shakes his head slightly. “This is impossible,” he says.

“So am I,” Stephen replies. He lets his hand fall from his side and slowly pushes himself to his feet. He keeps Claudia in his peripheral vision; her eyelids twitch at Stephen's words and movement, but otherwise she hasn't moved.

“Anomaly,” he says again, and Obaid's team start to unpack their equipment. Stephen raises his hand to his neck briefly.

There's no blood on his fingers when he pulls them away. And now questions are starting to crowd his mind.

“What now?” Emily asks him.

Stephen glances at her; then the anomaly; then back to Claudia. “I don't know,” he admits.

o o o o o

Jess' hands fly over the keyboard as she searches the stately home's CCTV for anyone who could qualify as an intruder. At the far end of the monitor banks is a single window with Detective Constable Former ARC Team Member Danny Quinn's Met ID photo and the few booking details the site management company had on public record. Every few seconds Jess glances at the photo (what stories would he have about the others; what's he doing now; why the apparent privacy about the wedding; would he like Jess if he met her?) and she has to keep reminding herself to stay focused on what actually needs doing.

The two monitors directly in her line of vision are running multiple black and white, mostly jerky feeds of car parks and service entrances – a government-funded 4x4 here, an ARC soldier or two there – but there was nothing that looked out of the ordinary until...

Jess freezes one of the feeds, rewinds it and hits play. A man – what looks like one from a particularly unfortunate angle – had picked a lock on a side door and, as Jess advances the video frame by frame, was looking around to see if he was being watched, completely oblivious to the camera above him. Jess smirks. Score one for modern technology.

She taps the video controls a few more times. There's a partial profile of the man's face, but not very much definition or detail. Frowning, Jess selects the best looking frame and reaches for the radio controls.

“Matt? I think I've found something.”

o o o o o

James Lester is in an early morning finance meeting. It's the worst kind – overpaid and woefully out of touch bureaucrats attempting to dictate how much of precious taxpayers' money should be allocated to their ongoing security and protection – and to cap it all, Philip sodding Burton is sitting across from him with a perpetually smug look on his face. When a knock on the door signifies an imminent interruption, James is almost grateful.

The door opens to reveal a youngish aide, possibly an intern by the way her eyes dart to the Minister, who mumbles something before skittering across to James' seat. She offers him a folded piece of paper, then all but runs out of the door, nearly slamming it in her haste to escape.

James' eyebrows climb of their own accord, and he schools a blank expression in the Minister's direction, and avoids meeting Burton's gaze entirely. He tucks the piece of paper underneath the tabletop and unfolds it.

He reads it, blinks, then reads it again. Just to be sure.

“Is something the matter, James?” Burton asks.

“Hmm? Oh, no. Just someone's idea of a joke, I imagine.” James tucks the piece of paper into a pocket and rises from the table. “No need to fret, Philip. I'll make sure the appropriate heads will roll. Minister, my apologies, I have something to attend to at the ARC.”

“I'll come with -”

“No need, Philip,” James says again, as smoothly as he knows how. “This meeting is the most important place either of us could be this morning, as you so earnestly pointed out on the way here. It wouldn't do for both of us to be absent, now would it?”

He leaves the room before Burton can react, but waits until he reaches an empty stairwell before he pulls his phone out. “I want this locked down, do you understand? Verify everything, whatever it takes. But nobody finds out.”

At least not until he can find out what the hell is going on.

o o o o o

“This is Chet Lyons here for the Morning Back Beat and it's a stunning Thursday morning out there – let's kick things off with a true classic from Stevie Wright...”

The DJ's West Country burr gives way to a distinctive guitar riff, and it's all Danny can do to not head-bang behind the wheel. He turns up the B road, slides into second gear and starts singing.

“I got some money in my pocket, I got the car keys in my hand...”

He laughs while he sings. It's a good morning, a great morning. Danny Quinn is getting married and he and his soon-to-be wife have earned every minute of today.

“Ugh, Quinn, shut up, some of us are trying to sleep back here.”

Danny laughs into the rear-view mirror. “No can do, guv. Come on, girl, just get on your shoes!”

“S'terrible.”

Danny chuckles, extra loudly. “I have the voice of an angel, guv. 'Sides, you're the one who phoned me, remember?” He's pretty sure it's law that the groom's men aren't supposed to get this drunk until after the wedding, but whatever. He's feeling magnanimous, and there's plenty of time to sober up before he says the big 'I do'.

“Evie! Evie! Evie, let your hair hang – what?”

Danny turns the radio down. Ahead of him is the gate to the stately home; standing just outside it is a woman all in black and in the distance there are several black vehicles in the car park. 

The woman motions for him to stop and roll his window down.

“Is there a problem?” Danny asks, even as he eyes her. She's in nondescript black trousers and a plain jacket. There's a bulge indicating a concealed sidearm and thigh straps suggesting at least one more gun.

“Your reason for being here, sir?” She's got a Yorkshire accent and guns aside, everything about her screams polite security. She glances to the back seat, where Danny's sergeant is groaning himself into a seated position. “Sirs?”

“Wedding,” Danny says slowly. He looks back towards the car park, where more figures in black are standing besides one of the 4x4s.

Something clicks. It's an _anomaly team_.

“Who's your commanding officer?” he asks the woman.

She frowns. “I'm sorry, sir. What -”

“Your CO,” Danny repeats. He looks at his sergeant again; he can't say anything, not with the other man there. Dread fills his stomach; he really thought he'd seen the back of all of this. He bites the proverbial bullet. “Tell me Becker's part of the outfit still.”

The woman hesitates; behind him his guv mutters: “What?” under his breath but otherwise stays quiet.

“You're Danny Quinn.” The woman steps back from the car, cocks her head like she's listening to something. Danny peers – there's what looks like a Bluetooth earpiece poking out from under her plait. “Straight on through, boss is waiting for you.”

Danny exhales loudly and puts his foot on the pedal again.

He watches the house as he gets closer, then the soldiers – what else can they be? – as they turn to watch his approach into the car park.

He pulls up as far away from everyone as he can manage, and takes a deep breath.

“Danny?” The sergeant's fully alert now and frowning at him in the rear view mirror.

Danny represses the sudden urge to vomit. “Just follow my lead,” he says quietly.

He takes another deep breath, then gets out of the car.

o o o o o

Becker and Matt are searching the east wing of the stately house. There's no sign of life, human or otherwise. A small voice in Becker's mind tells him that if this really is Danny Quinn's wedding, so far it's a bit crap. It's all pastel colours and the kind of furniture his mum drools over on Antiques Roadshow and none of it screams Danny Quinn.

Maybe the venue is his fiancée's choice.

Or maybe he really didn't know Danny at all.

_Becker's at the Home Office when he gets the text. Five minutes later he finds Danny in the conference room laughingly dubbed the Interim Anomaly Response Centre. “What the hell, Quinn?”_

_Danny huffs and rubs the back of his neck with his good hand. He looks like he hasn't slept or shaven in a week. “I'm done, mate. I'm out.”_

_So the text said. “That doesn't answer my question. What. The hell?”_

_Danny sighs. “Jen and I were talking last night and... we can't keep doing this. Not like this, Abby and Connor and -”_

_“Don't,” Becker says quickly. Too quickly._

_“That's not what I meant.”_

“Becker?”

Becker blinks and looks around.

“Did you hear what I just said?” Matt asks, frowning. He steps closer to Becker. “If you're not up for this -”

“We need to sweep for creatures,” Becker says as evenly as he can manage. “I'm fine.”

Matt's eyebrows climb. “You know what I think? Only one of those statements is true.”

“Well, we can all go home, then.” Becker knows he's being petulant. He also doesn't care.

Judging by the look on Matt's face he knows those two things as well.

“One day,” Matt says softly, “you're going to have to sit down with someone and have a long, long conversation about everything going on inside your head. Not today though – this room's clear, only another dozen or so to go.”

Becker closes his mouth, and nods. Then he arms his EMD for good measure. He can do this. He can take an olive branch, sweep an ex-colleague's wedding venue for possible prehistoric creatures. Even find a possible human intruder while he's at it.

“Lead on,” he tells Matt, gesturing with the EMD and trying not to miss his Mossberg too much.

Some things are just better with bullets.

The corner of Matt's mouth twitches – since when has Becker been this open a book? – but he gamely leads Becker out of the overly detailed double bedroom and into another overly detailed double bedroom; exact same bed, identical décor and furniture, just in matching shades of light purple instead of grey.

Becker really, really doesn't understand why people do this.

Matt opens the en-suite door, and a few seconds later: “Clear.”

“Same.” Becker taps his earpiece. “Sit rep.”

_“No sign of any intruder,”_ Emerson reports. _“Bailey found an events director. High enough up the pecking order, sir?”_

It'll do. It's a mess, Becker thinks. They're running around like infants, reacting instead of acting. “Name?”

_“Claire Duchemin. You to her or her to you?”_

Becker glances at Matt; Matt nods. “I'll come to her. Where is she?”

_“Ground floor office, second right from the south entrance.”_

“Copy that.”

Matt nods again. “I can do this. Keep the channel open,” he adds, for everyone's benefit. “Report anything immediately.”

Everyone chimes in their ayes.

“Go,” Matt tells Becker.

Becker goes. He doubles back down the hallway to find a narrow staircase and jogs down to the first floor. Then it's another about turn, and the ceiling opens up into a well-lit open plan entrance way where the south door is located.

There's movement from up on his right and Becker freezes. He hears the indistinct sound of a woman talking, pausing, then talking again. Typical phone call behaviour. A door opens, and a woman backs out of it. Medium height, slender build, sensible clothes. Long dark hair. Head cocked to the side while she closes the door with her left hand.

Then she turns around.

Everything stops. Becker stares, unable to do – say – anything.

She looks just as shocked.

Dimly Becker hears voices coming through his earpiece. _“...situation, boss. Captain?”_

“Becker?”

Becker breathes long and loud. “What situation?”

“Danny Quinn's outside, sir.”

“Good,” Becker hears himself say. “His fiancée's right here. We'll meet you downstairs.”

“Sir.”

Becker looks back up at the woman. He tells himself he can do this.

“I don't even want to know, do I?” the woman says.

“Doubtful,” Becker replies. “Hello, Jenny.”

Jenny Lewis smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. “Becker.”


	2. Chapter 2

2

Stephen stays crouched on the ground besides Claudia while Obaid and his team lock the anomaly. He watches it pulsate then close in on itself, pleased as he recognises Connor's handiwork.

“Perhaps we should inform someone of this,” Emily says from behind him. When Stephen twists round to look at her, she stares pointedly at him and continues: “Then perhaps someone could explain why this is 'impossible'.”

Stephen glances at Obaid, then Claudia. “Can you stand?” he asks quietly.

She considers it. “I think so.”

Stephen stretches slowly to his feet and then helps Claudia stand. Her legs seem stiff, and she cradles one arm protectively, but she's steady. He can't see any dried blood on her, or any other obvious signs of injury.

Claudia points at Emily for a few seconds but doesn't say anything. Stephen thinks he knows what she means though.

She wants to know what's impossible about her as well.

“Emily Merchant, this is Claudia Brown,” Stephen says quietly. “Claudia, Emily Merchant.”

“Hello,” Emily says.

Claudia nods.

Stephen takes a deep breath, now acutely aware that Obaid's team are watching from behind them. “Claudia... doesn't exist in this timeline.”

Emily looks nonplussed.

Claudia closes her eyes and sighs. “Nick was right,” she whispers.

_“Tell me how she got here,” Nick demanded after they'd rescued Abby and the kid from the Mer creature. “Claudia Brown.” He said the words like they were from an alien language._

_Stephen shrugged. “Same way we did.”_

_A combination of pure dumb luck and fight over flight._

“Yeah,” Stephen says.

“You're him,” Claudia says.

Stephen nods. “And you're her.”

“You are... both from the same timeline?” Emily asks.

Claudia makes a snorting sound. “More or less.”

Before Stephen can wonder what that means Obaid steps into his peripheral vision.

“I'm calling this in,” he says without preamble.

“Make sure you speak to Lester directly.” Stephen says, surprising himself. Maybe it's a belated resolution, just in time for his second chance in this present: don't make the same mistakes twice.

Better late than never.

“Problem,” the soldier says. When everyone turns to look at him, he points to his earpiece. “Lester's AWOL.”

Stephen frowns. “Does Jess know?”

Obaid raises an eyebrow and points to Stephen's head.

...Oh.

Stephen taps his own earpiece. “Jess?”

 _“Ste... Doctor Hart,”_ Jess says quickly. Too quickly, like she's out of breath, or focusing on something else. _“Problem?”_

Stephen glances at Claudia again. “I could say the same thing. Where's Lester?”

_“Meeting. Again, is there a problem at the site?”_

_“Good,”_ Jess replies. _“Because we've got a situation at the other anomaly site.”_

“Back-up, ma'am?” Obaid asks; beyond him, Emily frowns as she realises there's an entire conversation happening that she's not privy to.

_“Is the anomaly still open?”_

“Yes, ma'am.”

_“Then no. Doctor Hart, any idea how long that anomaly will stay open?”_

“Unlikely to be more than two hours from start to end.” Stephen wishes he'd been able to keep the locking device. At least that way he could force close the anomaly and they could go to Hilary's anomaly site.

He wonders what the situation Jess had referred to could be. Nothing too serious, otherwise it could have bled over the comms.

He winces minutely. Bad choice of metaphor.

It's almost a minute before Jess replies. _“Orders are to stay put and prevent civilian access until the anomaly closes.”_

Obaid nods, though Jess can't see him. “Ma'am.” He taps his earpiece to end the transmission and signals for his team and Stephen to do the same.

“I hope you know what you're doing,” Obaid tells Stephen.

So does Stephen.

“We stay put for now,” he tells Claudia and Emily. He's itching to contact Hilary at the other anomaly site, find out what's going on there. Calling it a 'situation' is deliberate; surely Jess would have indicated if there's an emergency.

It's only then that Stephen realises just how little he knows the current system, and the people in it.

And where is Lester?

o o o o o

_Jenny laid down covering fire while Danny dragged Becker to the anomaly. After a few missteps Becker shook off Danny's grip, reloaded his handgun, aimed to his upper right and fired._

_A creature shrieked, then fell forwards off a bus. It hit the ground and instantly smaller maggot like creatures swarmed over it._

_The anomaly was ahead of them, a small leap off the edge of the plateau. It left no margin for error. Beyond it was nothing but crumbling edges and dust clouds. It was all too easy to imagine what could be at the bottom of the cliffs._

_Whatever wisecrack Danny might have otherwise conjured up about the space between the ground and the anomaly didn't come. Instead he clasped Becker's shoulder with his good hand, then launched into a sprint. He sprang off the edge and through the anomaly._

_Two more gunshots rang out behind Becker, quickly followed by the sound of boots on gravel. Jenny was breathing heavily but moving fast. She passed Becker wordlessly; he fell into pace behind her and they jumped through the anomaly and -_

_\- and landed on a cold concrete floor. Becker winced as his shoulder made contact, then rolled to the side. When he looked up, Lester had already sealed the anomaly. Danny was on his feet and pulling Jenny to hers._

_“I suppose a retrieval's out of the question,” Lester said quietly, without his usual bite. Wearing 'civilian' clothes, pristine, dark running gear and matching hat, he didn't look like the man Becker was used to._

_He thought of the maggots that had swarmed over anything dead, and shuddered._

_“We... we lost Sarah,” Danny said when he realised Becker wasn't going to say anything. “No sign of Abby, Connor or Stephen.”_

_Lester pursed his lips. “That's unfortunate.” It sounded sincere. “I'll return the equipment before the administrators realise it's gone. You three... you should head home. I'm sorry.”_

_Jenny closed her eyes tightly for a second. Danny wrapped his good arm around her, murmured something into her hair. “Come on, Becker,” he said a few seconds later. “Drive me to A &E.”_

_What – just like that? No. Becker shook his head. “No. We... we can't do nothing!”_

_“We can't do anything for her,” Danny said again. For a split second Becker was back in the perimeter of the future ARC building, standing over Sarah's burned -_

_He forced himself to focus on Danny. “...back, we'll get killed.”_

_“And then we're no good to anyone,” Becker said dully. He knew the drill. Didn't mean he had to like it. “She's a civilian, Danny.”_

_Jenny made a choking noise. “So are we.”_

_“You're both firearms certified. She isn't.”_

_“She chose to be here, Captain.” Lester set aside Connor's equipment and stepped into the circle. “As did all of us, tonight. She knew the risks. We all did.”_

_He was doing all the right things. Making all the right noises._

_But Becker wanted none of it._

_Three months, and no sign of Stephen or Connor or Abby, alive or dead. No sign of Helen Cutter. And now Sarah was..._

_No._

“Jenny,” Becker says. He feels faintly stupid for not having realised before.

“Becker,” Jenny says again. She lets out a long breath. “I don't want to sound rude, but what are you doing here?”

“Anomaly,” Becker says. There's no point dressing it up or dancing around it. It's been almost ten months since she and Danny left, maybe she just needs to hear it out loud.

Jenny closes her eyes. “Okay,” she says quietly. “Yes. Right.”

There's a tiny tremble in her hands as she smoothes her shirt.

“I'm sorry,” Becker says. And he means it. He's sorry the team is here, that he's here. 

There'd been a small part of him that hoped he'd never see Danny and Jenny again. He tries not to think about it most days, about his reasons for thinking that.

That way he can believe it's for the right reasons.

The corner of Jenny's mouth twitches. She gets it. “Who are you meeting downstairs?”

“Events director.”

“Claire.” Jenny nods. “Let's go.”

And they go. Jenny falls into step beside Becker down the stairs. On the first right turn she asks: “What do I need to know?”

Becker hesitates, then gives her the facts: secured anomaly, unconfirmed and unidentified human intruder. The bare minimum. “I'd say congratulations,” he adds before he can help himself.

Jenny smirks, eyes Becker's uniform. “Likewise.”

Claire Duchemin's office is oblong and surprisingly airy. One wall is dominated by windows and French doors that open onto the grounds. A smartly-suited woman Becker doesn't know – Duchemin by process of elimination – is standing by the desk with Sergeant Emerson.

Becker shakes Duchemin's hand; she greets Jenny far more warmly, all air kisses and hand waves that make Becker want to roll his eyes.

“You... know these people, Ms Lewis?”

Jenny affects a wide smile. “Former colleagues,” she says airily. “I would say this is their idea of a prank.”

Duchemin raises an immaculate eyebrow, and shoots Becker a brief but thoroughly dirty look. “I'm not laughing.”

Becker's not sure if he's supposed to say anything or not, but Jenny makes the decision for him. “They're ex-army, sense of humours are in short supply.”

Duchemin humphs.

Jenny sighs but someone else interrupts her: “And they're tracking a person of interest last seen on site.”

Danny Quinn strolls into the office, followed by one of Becker's team and a man he doesn't recognise. It's easier than Becker thought it would be, but he only gets a moment of self-loathing before Danny gives him a toothy smile and sweeps him into a brief hug.

“Oh captain, my captain, last person I expected to see here today! Jen,” he adds in a much softer tone, and lets go of Becker to touch Jenny's arm. “All right?”

She nods. “You?”

Danny takes a moment before nodding. He moves around Jenny to stand closer to the wall; the move gives him a clear view of the rest of the room and through the windows. Jenny moves slightly backwards as well, affording herself a similar view.

“Mr Quinn,” Duchemin says, “I don't like so-called jokes or pranks. What, exactly -”

“Ma'am.” As a rule Becker dislikes interrupting civilians when there's no immediate threat but there are always exceptions. “Danny – Mr Quinn – was telling the truth. We've been tracking an individual, and he was last sighted in the grounds of this building.”

True enough, if a little back to front.

“We're conducting a thorough search,” Becker continues. “It was never our intention to disrupt any of today's proceedings.”

 _“Now say sorry,”_ Jess prompts. She sounds amused.

Becker coughs. “Our apologies for any inconvenience. But this is an important matter. Had we been able to locate you when we arrived, we'd have brought you up to speed then.”

Duchemin looks far from impressed. But she nods. “And the fact that you all know each other...?”

“Coincidence,” Jenny says. Her gaze flickers to Becker briefly but her face stays expressionless.

“We should resume the search, sir,” Emerson says, recognising her cue.

 _“And then,”_ Jess adds in Becker's ear, _“I want_ details _.”_

Becker tries not to groan.

o o o o o

_“Matt? I think I've found something.”_

Matt waits until Becker disappears down the narrow staircase, then flicks to the private channel Jess is using. “What is it?”

_“I've got someone breaking into the building through a west-facing side door.”_

Matt heads for the nearest staircase. “When?”

 _“Time stamp says two hours ago. Image isn't great – but, Matt,”_ Jess says quietly. _“The description matches the one Emily gave of Ethan Dobrowski."_

Matt halts in the middle of the corridor. Looks around; no one else either from the project or the stately home's staff. “How close?”

He can practically hear her pull a face, re-evaluate the image and shrug. _“Close. It's impossible to call, but... maybe.”_

Matt considers his options. Emily – Dobrowski's likeliest target – is back at the ARC. The anomaly – Dobrowski's only other feasible target – is sealed and guarded by two of Becker's security team. “West facing door?” he asks.

Jess' reply is instant. _“Yes – and the time frame matches with the assault on Colin Wrathall – the wedding guest Connor and Abby found,”_ she adds.

Matt remembers. “Where did they find him?”

 _“In the... north wing,”_ Jess says. _“Ground floor.”_

“So if it's the same man...” Matt begins.

 _“Then he's looping around!”_ Jess exclaims. _“There are no internal cameras, and there's nothing else unusual from the external feeds. A couple of cars registered to guests, that's it.”_

“Question is, what's his target.” Matt heads back towards the west wing, where Dobrowski – the easiest label to give the intruder until a definitive identification could be made – had entered the building.

_“Yes, I – hang on.”_

“Keep the channel open,” Matt reminds her, but Jess is already talking to someone else.

_“Doctor Hart. Problem?”_

Stephen. Something with his laboratory or reintegration process, possibly. Matt tunes out the rest of what Jess says until she reintroduces herself to him.

He remembers most of the building's layout from when Becker's sergeant had passed around the plans on the way over earlier, and finds the right entrance point easily. The door is closed but unlocked, and some of the wood varnish around the lock is scuffed.

A good job, but not the best Matt's ever seen.

From there it's easy enough to find the room where Abby and Connor had found the civilian. Most of the doors on Matt's route are closed, some even locked, and Wrathall's room is the first one Matt finds that is both unlocked and open. He glances around the room, then turns around to stand in the doorway.

If he had broken into this place, taking a suit would be the logical step. Even without a wedding, smart clothes ensured he would blend into the background and allow him to move with impunity.

So whatever Dobrowski was doing here, he had a plan.

Matt allows himself to frown. The undisguised opulence of this place would be recognisable to anyone – even he felt under-dressed just coming through the gates – but could a man like Dobrowski come here and improvise or was his plan at least partly constructed beforehand?

He considers his geography again. From this room he estimates a four minute direct route to the anomaly – clearly not Dobrowski's immediate concern as no alarm had been raised by Becker's men. Nor had anyone else on site reported the presence any unknown individuals.

Matt taps his earpiece. “Brooks? Check in.”

Brooks is the senior soldier guarding the anomaly, and responds immediately. _“No change, sir.”_

It's at that moment that Jess comes back on the comm. _“Matt.”_

“What is it?”

 _“You're not going to believe this,”_ she says excitedly. _“Danny Quinn's just shown up – and Becker's found Jenny.”_

“Jenny?”

 _“Jenny Lewis.”_ Matt instantly recognises the name. _“She's Danny's fiancée – they're getting married!”_

It's a coincidence Matt could have done without. “Where are they?”

 _“Events director's office.”_ Jess gives him directions then signs off the line.

Matt closes Wrathall's door behind him and starts to head back the way he had come. He gets a few feet when a gun clicks behind him.

“Don't move,” Ethan Dobrowski orders him.


	3. Chapter 3

Lester is waved through the entrance security at Peel Building with deliberately little fanfare. One of the perks of being him is that he is rarely accorded full scrutiny, at least within Home Office buildings.

Both his mobile phones are switched off and in a hidden compartment in his car; that combined with the fact he's never willingly operated a black box comm unit means he can be nearly certain nobody actually knows he's here.

“Mr Lester?”

Well, not quite nobody. The voice belongs to a woman walking down the corridor towards Lester. She's in her early fifties, suited, serious expression, entirely professional.

He likes her already.

He holds out a hand as she comes closer. “Yes.”

She shakes his hand and smiles blandly. “I'm Professor Erskine.”

Lester nods. 

Erskine motions back down the corridor; Lester falls into step beside her. “This is highly unorthodox, Mr Lester. There are protocols -”

“Yes, I know.” Lester adjusts his tie ever so slightly. “However I was assured the circumstances warranted a... deviation from standard procedure.”

Erskine sniffs. “Quite. I suppose I oughtn't shoot the messenger.”

Lester just smiles at her. 

“Through here.” Erskine opens a door and motioned for Lester to enter first. She closes the door securely behind her.

Lester checks out the room. It's a small examination room, similar to the other Home Office set ups he'd had to occasionally requisition before the first Anomaly Research Centre. A few nondescript cabinets and shelves dot along one wall. The flat bed table is the only free-standing piece of equipment in the room, but he's not there to conduct an inspection.

On the table are a small collection of yellowed bones, some whole but mostly fragments of varying sizes.

Lester steps up to the table. “So what is this?”

Out of the corner of his eye Erskine looks unimpressed. “Its all preliminary; nothing can be confirmed without tests, and for tests I'd need -”

“To be on record, yes.” Lester offers her a small smile, as sincere as he can manage. “But without tests?”

Erskine sighs, but steps up to the table. She takes out a pen and begins indicating bone fragments as she explains: “These remains, as you know, were discovered at the Central Metropolitan University during routine building works – in the zoology department, I believe.”

Within metres of the late Professor Cutter's office to be precise, but Lester keeps that information to himself.

Erskine continues. “The bones most likely belonged to an adult human female – modern _homo sapiens_ – but again, without testing it's only an educated guess. My best estimate is that the bones have been in situ for years, if not decades.”

Lester nods. “And how long do you think Jane Doe has been dead?"

Erskine draws a long, shallow breath. “That is where we begin to stretch belief, Mr Lester. The condition of these remains is consistent with excavated remains of people who died thousands of years ago.”

“But the catch?” Lester asks. He might have requested an expedited full report had there been nothing out of the ordinary besides the remains' proximity to Cutter's old office.

But there is, otherwise his contact in the Pathology Unit wouldn't have interrupted a ministerial meeting to slip him a handwritten note.

Erskine hesitates.

“Humour me,” Lester prompts, gently this time. “Pretend this is a science fiction show; whatever you tell me is well within the realms of possibility. I'll even nod sagely and concur with your findings.”

It's preposterous of course, but it finally elicits a positive response from Erskine. She smirks, runs a hand over her tightly-coiffed hair, and nods. “Very well, then. This is why there is no possible way these remains could belong to a woman who died in the Mesolithic.”

She uses her pen to push one of the larger bone fragments towards Lester. He leans in close to -

“Oh my...” The words come out before he can stop himself.

The tubular sliver of bone has a silverish edge to it; seeing that she has his attention, Erskine taps the grey spot with her pen.

“I took some scrapings to examine under a microscope,” she says quietly. When Lester looks up she's staring intently at him – and there's a flicker of fear in her expression. “It's a titanium alloy, in a place where titanium alloy has no historical place being.”

Realisation dawns, and along with it a sudden wave of nausea. “It's a pin,” Lester says.

“Surgically implanted,” Erskine nods. “Now tell me, Mr Lester: how on earth does a surgically implanted metal alloy correlate with a ten thousand year old woman?”

It doesn't. Lester realises he might know who the remains belong to, but just as quickly files the thought process away. “I don't know,” he admits. “But I can supply you with the cover and means to find out.”

“And when I do?”

Lester strongly suspects he doesn't want to find out.

“When you do,” he says calmly, “you tell me. And nobody else.”

o o o o o

Matt shifts to a ready stance and raises his hands either side of his head. “I was wondering when we'd find you.”

“Two things wrong with that,” Ethan says quietly but surely.

“Not going to tell me?”

“With your line of communication still open? No.” Matt hears Ethan step forward and then feels the very real pressure of the barrel of a handgun on the back of his head.

“This is what you're going to do.”

o o o o o

Jess has just signed off from Sergeant Obaid and Doctor Hart when the other line comes on again. “Go,” she says absently, contemplating whether or not to find a technician to fill a Thermos with hot chocolate for her.

_“Jessica, it's Matthew.”_

Well, that sounds odd. “Um... yes?” Jess hesitates. “What do you need?”

_“Sever the comms for the team at the stately home. Ethan Dobrowski's knocked out one of the captain's team, taken off with a black box.”_

“That's not...”

 _“Do it, Jessica,”_ Matt orders. _“We're experts; we'll find a way to communicate with each other.”_

“Fine. Killing the lines.” Jess does it – why shouldn't she? She'd fed Matt the information about the intruder, it had clearly helped them ID Dobrowski...

...but something is way off. Nothing about what Matt had just said was right. He couldn't remember him ever calling her Jessica, or even referring to Becker by his former -

Oh. Oh shit.

Jess fumbles under her workstation for her Blackberry. Hands shaking she searches through her contacts and fires out a text message to Becker.

_Comms down. Matt maybe in trouble. DO SOMETHING_

o o o o o

Stephen checks his watch then glances back to the anomaly.

“What is it?” Emily asks.

“The anomaly should have closed by now.” Stephen taps his watch face. “It's recurring, in both time lines. The timing of the appearances doesn't follow a pattern but the anomaly's never stayed open longer than one hour and thirty seven minutes. The alert went out one hour and fifty minutes ago.”

As if to reinforce the point the anomaly shimmers under the force field.

Emily considers this. “Perhaps the information was incomplete,” she says.

It's possible. But not the only option. “Claudia,” Stephen begins, still trying to fathom the details, “did you use anything to open this anomaly?”

“Helen's remote?” Claudia frowns. “No. It burned out,” she adds.

There's something in her voice that makes Stephen stop. A weariness. He's heard it before. In Nick, after Helen's bombshell and later in Leek's bunker. In Jenny when she'd wanted to leave the ARC. In Hilary just a few nights ago.

Back when he could pretend he was asocial by choice rather than by design, Stephen might have been able to convince himself he could talk to Claudia, do... something.

Now he knows he can't.

“You travelled alone on the other side of the anomalies?” Emily asks, surprising Stephen, and even Claudia jerks a little. She takes a half step towards Claudia but doesn't make a move to touch her.

Claudia nods.

Emily gives her a small smile. “It is no small feat. I was fortunate – I found others, and we travelled as a group.”

Claudia smirks. “Liabilities.”

“Worth the risk.”

“I haven't -” The anomaly makes a whooshing sound; as everyone turns to look at it, it dims then collapses under itself, leaving just the bright lights of Connor's locking device behind.

Stephen's hand flies up to his earpiece. “Jess. Jess?”

There's no response. 

Obaid taps his earpiece, then shakes his head.

Stephen's mobile vibrates in his pocket, and he jumps. In the seconds it takes to calm down again he's pulled the phone out and is looking at the screen.

“It's -” Jess Parker – when did her number get on his phone? A text message.

_SOS @ other anomaly site_

“What -” Emily begins.

Stephen shakes his head, already moving to help Obaid and his team. “We need to get to the other anomaly site. Now.”

o o o o o

Becker closes down the comm line to Jess. He's about to suggest that the civilians retire to somewhere secure while he and Emerson regain some semblance of control over the search for incursions when Danny pipes up. He points to the man who'd followed him into Duchemin's office.

“Sarge, this is Becker, one of the guys I used to work with. Becker, Sergeant Sean Kirkham, London Met.”

Becker nods.

“What's this about a person of interest?” Kirkham asks. He glances at Danny. “We've had nothing of that come through our lines.”

Becker shakes his head. The space where the appropriate responses should be is blank. As if sensing his uncertainty Danny jumps in again.

“Private matter, guv. That or it's above our pay grade.” He gurns a little; combined with the explanation it mollifies Kirkham.

It's a classic 'us v. them' ploy, one that Becker's seen used plenty of times before. He's surprised at the twist in his gut at being classified as 'them' this time.

It shouldn't matter. He hasn't seen Danny in months and neither he nor Jenny had invited him to their wedding – not that he'd even known they were in a relationship at all. Maybe that was something else that had grown after the anomaly project.

Like Stephen's feelings.

Becker squelches the thought, but judging by the way Danny and now Jenny are looking at him, it might have been too late.

“We should -” But before he can get any further the office door swings open again to reveal Connor and Abby. They both see Danny and Jenny at the same time, and their reactions are of identical joy.

“Oh my god!” Connor exclaims. He bounds across the room and all but jumps on Jenny, hugging her tightly before doing the same to Danny. Abby is a bit more subdued; she smiles at Jenny and the two hug.

“All right, you two,” Danny says thickly. “Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?”

“Yeah,” Abby says eventually.

“Where've you two been?” Connor demands. “All Becker would tell us is you quit, and – oh my god, Jenny! Do you know who Danny's marrying?”

“Um...” Jenny pulls a face.

“Con.” Abby nudges Connor to look down at Danny and Jenny's joined hands.

The way Connor's mouth hangs open should have been funny, but Becker just watches as Connor chokes back some noise, then hugs both Danny and Jenny tightly again. “That's fantastic," he babbles. "Seriously amazing.”

He looks back at Abby. “Stephen is gonna love this.”

“Stephen?” Jenny asks, frowning.

“I...” Connor looks around for Becker, then back at the circle he was in. “Should I...?”

“Becker didn't say anything about Stephen,” Jenny says slowly.

All eyes turn on him, even the civilians who seem suspiciously like they're starting to enjoy the impromptu show.

Platitudes and excuses swirl around Becker's mind.

_“You,” Stephen said, because he didn't have the words for anything else._

_Me? Becker thought, because he didn't have any words at all._

Jenny's expression softens. “How long?” she asks.

Becker shakes his head. “Six days.” If that.

His mobile phone buzzes in his pocket, and he's never been more grateful for the distraction. It's a text message from Jess. Odd.

Then he reads it.

“Shit,” he says out loud. Reflexively he taps his comm but there's nothing, not even static. He looks at the phone screen again.

“What is it?” Danny asks.

“Trouble.” Becker looks at Connor and Abby, then Emerson. “When was the last time either of you heard from Matt?”

They respond with head shakes and blank expressions.

“You were last with him, sir.”

Becker sucks in a sharp breath. He texts Jess back. _What is going on?_

The reply is quick. _Matt made me kill comms. Think Ethan has him. Don't know_

He sends back a quick _Ok will call you asap_ then looks around at the curious and worried expressions on everyone's faces. “I think Matt's found our intruder. Black boxes are useless. Emerson," he says, before anyone else can jump in. "Head back out, round everyone from the team up. Rendezvous back at the – zero point. Keep in touch with mobiles – use smoke signals for all I care. But stay in touch.”

“Sir.” Emerson leaves the office.

“Danny, Jenny. Could use an assist.”

“Of course.” Jenny glances at Danny and they both nod.

“Round up all of your guests who are already here, get them into one room then secure it. Tell them whatever you have to.”

“Done.” Danny squeezes Jenny's hand, then ushers Duchemin and Kirkham out of the office.

“Who is it?” Abby asks as soon as the door closes behind them.

“Ethan Dobrowski.”

“What's he doing here?” Connor frowns.

“I don't know,” Becker says, “but that's what we're going to find out.”


End file.
